The result, noble as its intentions may be, is millennial cringe in its purest form ... Wells wrangles his unwieldy material to vague pronouncements ... Wells’s book is distinctly millennial in at least two respects: First, there’s the sense of it having been written not for Wells’s own peers but rather toward the nameless authority figure whose stamp of approval/legitimation every millennial...not-so-secretly craves. Second is its obsession with dating ... I started Wells’s book confident that I understood my own generation and ended it convinced that making any kind of definitive statement about anyone was an act of insane epistemic hubris, distinguished only by degree from the rankest race science ... I suppose someone could devise a unified theory of culture that links these people, along with their seventy-two million coevals ... But one would first have to ask oneself a question that Wells sadly failed to consider: Why bother?
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